


Smoke in our lungs

by ANTchan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aroace Jyn Erso, Aroace K-2SO, Drunk Cassian Andor, Implied Sub!Cassian, M/M, Making Out, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Saltmates K-2SO and Jyn, night club, whoops my love of sub!Cassian ate this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANTchan/pseuds/ANTchan
Summary: All Cassian wants to do for New Years is drink, dance, and forget about his life for a little while.“Sorry!”  A body stumbles into him, or Cassian sways into them. In the end, he isn’t sure.What he is sure of is that he lifts his gaze and finds the most gorgeous big brown eyes looking back at him.





	Smoke in our lungs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rogueshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogueshadows/gifts).



> This was meant to be apart of the SniperPilot Winter event but a usual I am SUCH a slow writer. But here it is! I present to you: Cassian being a tired, drunken disaster, and Bodhi being the precious good soul that he is. I want to give an EXTRA special thank you to rogueshadows for continuing to scream about this fic with me, generally being the best cheerleader to get this fic done. <3
> 
> Hopefully part 2 will be up in and around Valentine's? Who knows. 
> 
> Always feel free to come scream about these disaster boys on [my tumblr!](http://anamelesstraveler.tumblr.com/)

\-------------------------------------

Cassian has, maybe, had a little too much to drink.

The tipsy, floating warmth he’s been nursing has rapidly slid into a sluggish, dizzy crawl. The pounding bass that had vibrated along his skin only an hour ago is now a twisted, volatile thing that makes his flesh prickle. The music is a smear of wordless sound. The people around him aren’t quite a blur yet, but he’s too drunk to care about focusing on any of them. And yet he still keeps knocking back the drinks Kay dutifully offers him - what exactly Kay keeps ordering, he’s forgotten to ask, but they burn just right in his throat so he doesn’t bother.

The glass clanks awkwardly against the table as he goes to set it back. “I think you should slow down,” Kay says lightly. It sounds like an admonishment anyway.

“We had a deal, remember?” Cassian grunts. “You get to be guard dog as long as you keep bringing me drinks.”

“I believe the deal was that I let you drink as long as you don’t do anything stupid. Giving yourself alcohol poisoning is considered _stupid_ by most standards, Cassian.”

“‘ven’t had near enough for that.” Cassian swipes back a stray lock of hair. His face feels hot and clammy after being on the dancefloor. “I’m going back out. Have another one of these when I get back?”

Instead of answering, Kay shoves a lukewarm bottle of water into his hand. “Drink at least another third of that before you go.”

He rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told anyway. “ _Sí, abuela,_ ” he mutters between gulps.

“You’ll thank me tomorrow. Or in five minutes when you don’t pass out on the dancefloor.”

Cassian wanders off without giving a reply to that, desperate to feel the press of the crowd around him again; strangely addicted to the haze and heat of the music and the people. His half-drunk mind conjures parallels to the sea, of sinking into the crush. Of sinking into it and becoming _not himself_ for however long he can manage it.

That’s all any of this is.

Cassian doesn’t usually enjoy this kind of partying - at all, in fact. He’s always had things he’d considered more important to do: studying and training drills and countless other things. But he’s spent too long with responsibility being his burden to carry. He’s devoted too much of his life to doing and fighting for what was right. Spent too long breaking off pieces of himself in the hopes that he could somehow make a difference. And after he’d wrung himself out, he’d knuckled down and done it all over again.

The paths are different now. Medical school comes with less risk of violence and death than the military had. But the cycle of responsibility and discipline feel the same to him when he’s exhausted and ready to collapse under his own weight. Like tonight, when all he wants is to forget about everything around him. Tonight is New Year’s Eve, and this time and this club might just be the perfect opportunity for Cassian to for it.

“Sorry!”  A body stumbles into him, or Cassian sways into them. In the end, he isn’t sure.

What he _is_ sure of is that he lifts his gaze and finds the most _gorgeous_ big brown eyes looking back at him. And then he must be stumbling, because a hand comes up to his arm to steady him. Cassian’s eyes dart down, tracking slowly up from the elegant hand  to toned forearm, up and up the slender, surprisingly strong form of the man in front of him. His eyes falter on the angle of a bearded jaw, the softening waves of long dark hair, and the quick movements of his soft-looking lips as he continues to ramble apologies at Cassian. (His brain may or may not blank entirely when the man’s tongue flicks out to nervously wet his lips.)

And then back to those eyes again. Those eyes that are watching him with curiosity and a hint of fear. Oh. Right.

Cassian waves a hand dismissively. “S’alright,” he mumbles, and then has to say it louder to be heard over the music. The stranger (the Unfairly Pretty stranger) leans, placing his empty glass on a ledge nearby. The shirt he’s wearing stretches enticingly across his frame as he does, and Cassian finds himself distracted again. When he straightens, it’s to brush apologetically at the new wet spot on Cassian’s shirt.

Ah. God, maybe Cassian really _has_ had too much to drink tonight. “Let me get you another one,” he finds himself offering.

That (Too Kissable) mouth curves into a frown. “I’m the one who spilled the drink on _you,_ ” Entirely-Too-Attractive says.

“Did you?”

His question, at least, seems to put the beautiful stranger at ease. “How many have you had, man?” he asks, visibly biting back an amused smile.

“Too many,” Cassian admits. And then decides: fuck it, all he’s wanted tonight is to forget about being the one to plan, to think about the _right_ way to do things. Fuck consequences. “Hey… hey, do you want to dance?”

The club is too dim and too bright in turn thanks to the light show up by the stage. So Cassian can’t see if the Doe Eyes is blushing or not. But by the startled, almost shy change in his body language, it’s a close thing. Which is… great, actually. It at least means that Cassian isn’t getting punched tonight. The lights flare brightly, and yes, he’s definitely blushing. “I-I’m not…” Cassian barely hears over the pulsing music. The rest is lost under it all, but after a few moments of blinking at the man’s expression, he sees the uncertainty there.

He leans unsteadily closer. “You can say no, it’s okay,” he says, taking the stranger off guard. Cassian is about to turn and leave, to let the unspoken rejection roll off his back, when Ridiculously Cute Smile reaches out to stop him. It may be the (several) drinks talking, but the single touch makes Cassian want to drag him closer and never let go.

(He’s known the man for all of two minutes and hasn’t even asked his name yet. It’s definitely the alcohol.)

“No, no, I do,” he yelps a little too loudly, right into Cassian’s ear. “I want to dance with you!” The spark of elation that wells up in Cassian is so overwhelming that he nearly misses his next words. “I just don’t usually…”

“You don’t have to impress me,” he laughs, a bit too rashly, and then pauses. That didn’t come out right. “You’re cute and I just want to feel you for a while.” That’s… probably not right either, but Dazzling Brown Eyes sputters and doesn’t protest as Cassian pulls him towards the dancefloor. They weave into the crowd, Cassian carelessly slipping past dancers absorbed in their own little worlds (some of them more… explicitly than others) in search of a clear space.

He turns and pulls the alluring stranger to him the moment they find space enough to breathe. His shame has been left behind somewhere between drinks, and so he doesn’t even question the urge to press up against this beautiful man with his Soulful Eyes and his Plush Mouth. Cassian can feel him jolt under his hands, but not away from him. “This okay?” he asks anyway, and mutters under his breath: “Please let this be okay.”

He gets distracted watching the man’s lips form unheard words, but gets his answer in the slight nod of his head. In the arms that come up around Cassian’s shoulders. It’s all the permission Cassian needs to let his hands slide around his slender waist, settling the lines of their bodies more firmly together.

It’s so easy to get lost in the thrum of the music, the hazy grind of the beat that seems to over take his own pounding heart. It’s even easier to get lost in his new companion, the two of them moving together with the music, unwilling to step apart for anything other than swaying against each other. And Cassian had known he would feel good, but he hadn’t anticipated the heat that crackles along his nerves everywhere that they touch. He hadn’t thought about the fact that he’d never want to let go.

All Cassian wants is to let his hands wander, to feel as much of this beautiful man as he can. But no, no, he knows he can’t go that far. Not yet. Not even though Cassian can feel the hot little gasp between them or the shiver that courses through the man’s body when Cassian’s hands make a thoughtless slide from his hips up his sides.

He ducks closer as soon as the music quiets for even a moment, pressing his lips to the man’s ear. “What’s your name?” Cassian _has_ to know. He’ll hate himself if he doesn’t learn at least that much.

There’s a breath against his cheek as the man huddles close in return. “Bodhi,” he answers, and there’s a rasp in his voice, something breathless and exhilarating. Cassian wonders if that’s what he sounds like after he’s had the breath kissed from his lungs too.

“Bodhi,” Cassian tests the name on his tongue, and wonders if it’s just his imagination or the flickering lights, or if Bodhi’s eyes go dark at the sound. “Nice to meet you, Bodhi.” He certainly _doesn’t_ imagine the sudden, almost musical laugh that bursts out of the man.

He falls in love then and there, he’s sure of it.

Their moment is shattered as the music starts up again. If Bodhi looks like he’s going to say anything else, it gets lost. Cassian loses track of how long they dance after that, one song blurring into the next. Bodhi is far more intoxicating than any drink he’s had tonight, and all Cassian can think of is staying like this, pressed almost intimately against him forever.

The music cuts out abruptly, startling them both, with the dj’s blaring announcement that midnight is almost upon them. The monitors on either side of the stage flare to life with footage from Time’s Square, and the cheering almost drowns out the start of the countdown to midnight. Thirty. Twenty-nine. His arms still around Bodhi’s waist, they stumble out of the way of the over enthusiastic dancers nearest them. All around them couples are clinging, people are making to find someone to kiss as the clock strikes midnight.

Twenty seconds, and Cassian turns to find Bodhi watching him. And Cassian forgets all about the chanting, shuffling crowd around them, and about the confines and dead ends of his life. He finally finds what he’s been looking for tonight, not in the bottom of a shot glass, but in the endless depth of Bodhi’s gaze.

Their lips meet at fourteen seconds to midnight.

There’s a gasp that mingles somewhere between them. Cassian doesn’t have time to figure out from who, because Bodhi hands come up, cradling the back of his neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss before Cassian’s dazed mind has a chance to catch up. He clutches Bodhi to him, lips parting at the tiniest flick of the other man’s tongue, desperately beckoning him. His knees threaten to buckle from the sheer force of his own desperate _wanting._

“ _HAPPY NEW YEAR!_ ”

Around them the crowd shouts and screams. There are flashing lights and the soft touch of confetti raining down from the ceiling. Someone shoves into them in the chaos, knocking them apart. Cassian blinks down at Bodhi, wild and dazed. There’s confetti caught in Bodhi’s hair. He can stand it only long enough to take a breath before dipping his head for another kiss. “C’mon,” he breathes urgently against Bodhi’s lips, nipping them even as he starts to tug the man away from the crowd. They have to break their kisses to  make their way back off the dancefloor, and every second that Cassian isn’t kissing Bodhi feels like he’s suffocating.

He can’t be bothered to find a place more private, simply clutching Bodhi’s hand as they come free of the crowd and dragging him over to the nearest unoccupied alcove between the pillars and equipment. Cassian lets his back hit the wall, with more force than he’d planned for. It makes Bodhi stumble into him, makes him catch himself with a hand against Cassian’s chest and Cassian all but _whimpers_. He’ll feel ashamed over the sound come morning. Now all he can think of is getting Bodhi’s mouth back on his.

He’s dizzy even before Bodhi kisses him again, thankful that his weight is there to keep Cassian pinned to the wall and upright. Cassian sucks at hot, kiss-swollen lips, his face tingling from the scrape of the man’s beard. The hand at his chest slides up his throat to the hinge of his jaw, a gentle brush of fingertips at first and then tighter until Cassian’s mouth falls open for him. His hands cling to the back of Bodhi’s shirt, pawing at it in an uncoordinated effort to get his hands beneath it.

“Hey.” This close he can hear the husky whisper without straining.

Cassian’s response might as well be called a whine, chasing after Bodhi’s mouth. Everything feels too hot, too close. Like his skin has been pulled too tight. It all feels like too much and not enough. Like he’s dreaming and fighting not to wake up. He wants to drown himself in Bodhi’s kisses, in the weight of him; wants to grind down on the thigh that’s nudging between his legs until he forgets his own name. That’s all he wants - he just wants to not _be_ for a few minutes.

“Hey… hey, shhh.” Bodhi’s voice is soft against the curve of his jaw now. The scratch and scrape of his facial hair is soothed by his lips pressing hot kisses. And it’s with a jolt that Cassian realizes there are words spilling out of his mouth.

“Please, fuck, I want-- I need this. _Need you, please._ ”

He clenches his eyes shut.

“It’s okay. No, hey, look at me?” Warm hands cradle his face, patient and sweet, until Cassian takes a steadying breath and opens his eyes again. And Bodhi is there, still, not a figment of Cassian’s imagination or a hallucination brought on by the drinks he’s had. So heartbreakingly beautiful and gentle, and he’s watching Cassian with concern on his face. “You okay?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that one. It… doesn’t seem to soothe the growing worry flickering across Bodhi’s face.

“Okay, look, I’m going go up to the bar and get us some water. This is going a little fast. And then maybe we can… talk? About this? After you sober up a little.”

Cassian finds himself nodding. His heart is racing in his chest and he’s gone lightheaded. When Bodhi steps away Cassian sways a little, trying to regain balance. He’s so disoriented that he doesn’t think to stop Bodhi until he’s already slipping back out of the alcove.

Once Bodhi disappears among the other club goers, the sound from outside their little corner comes rushing back. The bass is so strong that it vibrates the walls. The chatter all around him is a constant undertow. It makes Cassian’s skin crawl. It’s a shock to his system - remembering just how much he dislikes places like this. The crowd on the dancefloor is no longer an anonymous comfort but a claustrophobic monster waiting to swallow him.

There’s no chance of keeping track of Bodhi’s progress in all this. Cassian should stay where he is - Bodhi had said he’d come back. Had said they’d _talk_. Hadn’t he? And maybe talking would lead back to kissing him again. But the longer he waits, the more Cassian feels ready to climb right out of his skin. And so he too sets off into the club again, in what is hopefully the general direction of the bar, cringing every time someone jostles by him.

But it’s not Bodhi that he finds. He wanders between people, disoriented in the flashing lights, and stumbles back upon Kay instead.

The moment he breaks through the crowd, his best friend looks up from the sharp brunette that’s taken up residence at the table with him. “There you are!” Kay shouts over the music. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to…” His expression pinches suddenly, taking in the sight of Cassian. “Oh no. Absolutely not.”

“What?” Cassian mumbles. Distantly, he wonders what he must look like. He feels wrecked and shattered. (How - _how?_ All they’d done was kiss.)

Kay climbs to his feet, turning to the petite woman and muttering apologies to her. She waves a hand at him, her eyes tracking down Cassian curiously. It’s all the observation of her Cassian can manage, because Kay is suddenly shuffling into his space, blocking his view. “Alright, we’re going home.”

“Kay--”

“Unsafe club sex is _certainly_ on the list of stupid things, Cassian. I think you’ve had enough tonight.”

“I didn’t-- I wasn’t fucking anyone, Kay,” he snaps, his face feeling hot in the significantly cooler air around the tables.

“Yet. You’re glassy-eyed and you’re going to have some impressive beard burn tomorrow. Come on, I’m not releasing you on the world like this. You won’t make it five minutes with your dignity intact.” Kay tucks an arm around his shoulders despite the muttered protests Cassian gives, and steers him in the direction of the door. Cassian peers around him, eyes scanning futilely for Bodhi in the faces of people they pass. And with every person who is _not Bodhi_ , the more the fight drains out of him.

It feels like Cassian has been walking through a dream. He lets Kay lead him from the club, lets the cold night air wash over him. The first breath of winter air _exhausts_ him, like a switch being flipped. Everything is suddenly too much all at once, the cold and the bright lights grating on his senses. All he wants to do is go back to their apartment and sleep.

“Cassian?” Kay calls to him as they wait for their car to be brought up, startling him. His friend’s gaze is quiet and worried. “Are you alright? Do you feel sick?”

 _‘I was looking for someone,’_ he wants to say. And: _‘I wanted to go home with him. He was too beautiful to be real.’_

“M’okay,” he sighs. “I’m just… I’m tired. And drunk. Let’s just go home.” He all but falls into the passenger seat even without Kay’s urging.

\-------------------------------------

Inside the club, Bodhi returns to the little tucked away space to find it empty. He stares at the space that had once been occupied by… fuck, a gorgeous man that was too alluring to be real.  “Damnit,” he hisses under his breath. He sets the two water bottles he'd left to retrieve aside, eyes darting frantically around for any trace of him.

All he finds are the faces of strangers.

\-------------------------------------

**END PART 1.**


End file.
